


Mistletoe Merrytime

by Katie (katieandsav)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom!Sam, M/M, Multi POV, Snogging, gabe being a lil shit, half fluff, half... i don't even know, katie's shit, oblivious destiel, sexually frustrated!sam, sub!gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieandsav/pseuds/Katie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two brothers and two angels equals a rather interesting Christmas celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe Merrytime

Okay, so it wasn’t Cas’ first Christmas. Hell, from the things he’d recounted, he’d probably been around ages before Christmas had even _existed_.

But Dean figured that that didn’t mean Cas couldn’t have a _nice_ Christmas. So, doing his best to ignore Sam’s “what are you doing, Dean” expression, he showed the angel the box of stuff he’d gathered.

It wasn’t much; mainly tinsel—every colour of the goddamn rainbow, though: red, green, silver, gold, and he was pretty sure there was some blue in there, too—and a couple plastic sprigs of mistletoe. He’d even found an old Elf on the Shelf, and, though he’d deny it if anyone asked, had spent a while sewing up the tears in its clothes (which he was never going to do again because pinpricks hurt like a bitch and, quite frankly, Dean would much rather be punched in the jaw by a troll on steroids than ever accidentally slice himself open again with that satan-blade called a needle).

So, yeah, although it was a bit of a pathetic collection, it was better than nothing—and judging by the beaming smile that lit up Cas’ face when he saw the stuff, he liked it.

“Oh!” Cas exclaimed quietly as he took the box of decorations, holding it almost reverently. “These are just like the ones we had up in Heaven.”

“You guys decorated for Christmas?” Dean asked.

Both Sam and Cas gave him a look, as if they couldn’t comprehend his stupidity.

“Right. Never mind. So, uh, Cas, you wanna decorate? I bet if we cover Sam in enough green tinsel he’ll look like a tree.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Actually, we’ve got a tree. When I saw what you were trying to do—”

“How didja figure it out?” Dean asked, startled.

“Dean, your room looks like Buddy the Elf blew up in there. Anyway, I got a tree and some ornaments—baubles and stuff. They’re in the garage.”

Dean blinked at his brother, who was giving him a look that blatantly said: _You’re welcome._ “Well, thanks, Sammy,” he said. “Cas—?”

But the angel was already walking toward the garage, still hugging the box to his chest. Dean smiled as he followed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam shook his head as he watched the two walk away. It was ridiculous how hard they pretended to be straight, when obviously—

“Those boys are about as heterosexual as Dean’s rainbow slinkie.” There was a pause. “Innuendo not originally intended, but still available for enjoyment.”

Sam whirled around, having to look down to see the man who had spoken. “Gabriel, are my eyes deceiving me, or did you somehow manage to get shorter?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Sam,” he said, pointing his candy cane at the Winchester disapprovingly. “I’ve come to court you. Be the Romeo to your freakishly large Juliet, and all.”

Sam groaned. “Do we have to go through this again?”

“Yes. And you should be nice to me, considering the fact that my big day’s coming up.”

“Your ‘big day’? What, _Christmas_?”          

“Of course. This is the time of year, after all, when people remember how the beautiful angel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and said unto her, ‘Girl, you so fo’ shizzle up the spout it’ll make your to-be hubby’s head spin, and my old man’s the baby daddy. Now, where’s the food?’”

“I _knew_ all the stories portrayed you as too polite,” Sam said, smirking.

“Mm. It’s a great disservice to the world, really. The real story’s much more interesting, if you ask me—especially the part where Mary tried to hit me with a broom.”

“Ooh, tell me more,” Sam laughed as he started toward the door that lead down to the garage.

“Damn, Samantha, you’re so kinky.”

Sam turned to look at Gabriel and was about to reply when there was a flash of golden feathers and, suddenly, he was pressed up against the wall, eye-level with Gabe. The angel’s breath was warm against Sam’s ear as he murmured, “Come on, Sam—enough games”, and Gabriel’s lips, brushing across Sam’s jaw as he pulled back, sent tingles down the Winchester’s spine.

Gabriel’s honey-coloured eyes were rich with intensity as they studied Sam. “So, what’s it gonna be, Sammy?” he asked quietly, leaning forward so his slightly-parted lips were almost brushing Sam’s own.

All of Sam’s breath left him in a sharp exhalation. “I—”

He was cut off by another voice.

“Hey, Sammy, where d’you think we should put the tree?” Dean called as he walked up the stairs from the garage. By the time Sam could see him—or, at least, the stack of boxes he was carrying—Gabriel was gone. “Cas says the library, but I think it should go in the dining room. Thanks for all your help with carrying this stuff up here, by the way,” Dean added sarcastically.

“Sorry, I… got distracted,” Sam replied, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. “And, uh, I’m with Cas—put it in the library.”

Dean dumped the boxes on the table with a grunt of exertion, then yelled back to Cas, “My traitorous brother’s siding with you.”

Cas appeared in the doorway a moment later, walking sideways so the tree he was carrying horizontally would fit through. His face was pink and beaded with perspiration. “Thank—Thank you, S-Sam,” he huffpuffed as he set the tree down.

“Uh, no problem.”

 

* * *

 

When Castiel looked up at Sam, he immediately knew something had happened.

The younger Winchester looked shaken; his hair was dishevelled, and his face was flushed. Cas sensed that someone had been in the bunker, talking to Sam, while Cas and Dean had been in the garage.

He recognised something about the aura that the someone—or something—had left behind, but he couldn’t place it—until there was a bang and the source appeared in the centre of the room.

“Hey, kids,” Gabriel said, smirking up at them all. “The Christmas angel has arrived. Worship me. Or feed me. Same difference.”

“What do you want, Gabriel?” Dean sighed as he flicked his wrist, the popping of stiff joints vaguely audible.

“Hmm, you got any candy canes? Bah Humbugs? Wait, no—that’s a saying. Mint Humbugs. Yeah, that’s what they’re called—”

“No,” Dean interrupted. “Why’re you here?”

“Hey, can’t I spend Christmas with my friends?” Gabriel reached up an arm and slung it over Sam’s shoulders, the height difference making the position appear to be rather awkward.

Cas may not have been good at picking up social cues, but he didn’t miss the rapidity of Sam’s breathing.

“We’re not your friends,” Dean said flatly. “You killed me, remember? Over a hundred freakin’ times.”

“Mm, sorry about that. Okay, fine. You’re not my friend. But I _have_ got family here—right, little bro?” Gabe turned his golden eyes on Cas.

Castiel was about to reply, when Sam exhaled a shaky, “Let’imstay.”

“ _What_?” Dean looked at his brother, appalled.

“Let him stay,” Sam repeated, steadier now. “Poor guy’s got no one.”

“Sammy’s got it!” Gabriel announced happily. “Thanks, kiddo!”

“I don’t even know you anymore!” Dean told Sam, his tone nothing short of disgusted, but Sam was watching Gabriel as the archangel swaggered off to the kitchen.

Cas could’ve been mistaken, but he didn’t think the way Sam was looking at Gabriel seemed platonic at all.

 

* * *

 

Man, that’d been close, thought Gabriel as he pulled open a cupboard and peered inside, grunting when he found nothing of interest.

He didn’t know if Sam realised this, but Gabriel could play him like a fiddle and read him like a book. He’d been certain Sam would convince Mr Darcy and Elizabeth out there (also known as Dean and Castiel) to let him stay, but in that brief moment, he hadn’t been so sure.

But, like always, Gabriel had been right in the end. Why? Because he was awesome.

Aha! A Mars Bar. That was just what he needed.

Gabe snatched up the candy and tore the packet open with his teeth before taking a large bite of chocolate. Much better.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around, and suddenly, he was looking up into the face of Sam Winchester.

“Mars Bar?” Gabe said, offering the chocolate to Sam.

Sam swatted it away, not tearing his gaze from Gabriel’s face. “What the _hell_ are you playing at?” he hissed. “You show up here with no warning, shoving me against walls and whispering in my ear like—like we’re in some sort of _porno_ , then you poof away and pitch up five minutes later, parading around like nothing happened!”

God, he was cute when he was flustered.

“Okay, fine,” Gabriel said after a moment. “You wanna know what I think? You’re hot, I’m hot—let’s be hot together. Preferably without clothes on.”

“You’re a moron, Gabe,” Sam said.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

Sam glowered at him. “Why’re you _really_ here, anyway?”

“To get in your pants.”

“Screw you.”

“Yes, please.”

Sam released a sound of what must’ve been frustration. “Gabriel, stop joking around, okay? It’s not funny anym—”

Gabe crumpled up his empty chocolate wrapper and dumped it in the trash, glancing up at Sam’s face. “Oh, I’m not playing, kiddo.”

And the look of shocked realisation—the wide-eyed, parted-lips look—that overtook Sam’s face as he realised Gabriel wasn’t kidding pushed Gabe to the brink—made him want to grab Sam’s face and kiss him right there. It filled Gabe with such a potent, intense desire to capture Sam’s lips with his own, to pull that muscled body close and run his fingers through that silken hair—it almost made him forget that he was going to let Sam initiate it when _it_ happened.

Gabe knew without a doubt that it would. He just really wished Sam would hurry the hell up.

 

* * *

 

“So!” Dean said, once he and Cas had heaved the tree into a standing position. It was a little crushed on one side from lying on the ground, but Dean didn’t mind. He’d told Cas it added character when the angel had started to apologise for laying it on its side. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Cas wrung his hands for a moment, watching the kitchen again. “Okay,” he said. “But your brother…?”

Dean paused. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Sammy?” he called. “We’re starting the tree—if you wanna help, you better haul ass out here.”

“Uh, I’ll be right out,” came the reply.

“What’s his problem?” Dean asked Cas. It was a rhetorical question, but Castiel shrugged, anyway.

“It’s possible Gabriel intimidates him.”

“Gabriel’s a real little twerp, isn’t he?” said Dean as he started unpacking one of the boxes.

Castiel didn’t reply. Instead, he retrieved a string of silver tinsel and turned it in his hands. “Can we put this on first?” he asked.

“Sure, Cas. Whatever you want—you’re in charge of the decorations this Christmas, yeah? God alone knows, me and Sammy suck at it.”

Cas gave a smile—it was only a small upturn of his lips, but Dean felt like he’d won gold at the Olympics.

“Thank you, Dean,” the angel said softly as he turned back to the tree and carefully wound the tinsel around it.

Dean grinned as he watched. “That looks great, Cas. Here—you wanna put on some baubles? Wait, what are these, anyway?” Dean grabbed a box and sifted through it, and, indeed, it held dozens of baubles—little blue frosted things the colour of Cas’ eyes on a sunny day, with white glittery snowflakes painted on them.

In the box was also a long container of around fifteen plastic candles. “Holy—” Dean started, nostalgia washing over him as he opened the container. “These things! Oh, man, we always used to put these on the tree when Mom was still alive. These, and little angels…” He trailed off, looking up at his own angel. “Hey, Cas, how about you sit on top of the Christmas tree, eh?”

Castiel turned away from the tree to look at Dean, tilting his head uncomprehendingly. “Dean, the tree would not support my weight.”

“ _Really_? And here I was, thinking you weighed nothing.” Dean laughed, then took out an electric candle and flicked the switch on the bottom so it lit up. He held it out to Cas. “Mind putting a couple’a these on?”

Cas took the candle, watching it in fascination. “It appears to have a flame, but there’s no fire.”

“Yeah. That’s kinda so the entire, uh, tree doesn’t burn down.”

The angel nodded understandingly, then turned back to the tree and fumbled for a moment as he tried to slide the thin gold loop attached to the candle onto the branch. Although his fingers were masterful and long, Cas’ hands were probably unused to doing delicate stuff like this, so he stood there fumbling with the task at hand, visibly becoming steadily more frustrated. And even though Dean’s fingers weren’t exactly delicate, either, he couldn’t just stand there and watch the poor guy, so he walked over to him and tried to put a candle on, too.

Finally, he got it the loop around the branch, but it promptly slid off. “Goddammit!” Dean swore, then put it back on. “What the hell—Oh, there. You gotta push the needley things out a bit so the loop catches on them if it starts to slide down. See? Like that.” He gestured to the candle, which now hung from the branch innocently.

Cas glanced at Dean’s candle, frowning a little, then followed Dean’s instructions—and it worked.

“There ya go,” Dean said, grinning. He retrieved the box of baubles and candles and set it on the ground beside the tree. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Castiel looked down at the box, then up at Dean again. “I’d rather you help me, Dean.”

“You sure, man? I mean, the most decorating I’ve done recently is hang a couple guns on my bedroom wall—”

“Dean.” Cas held out a bauble, and Dean felt his face relaxing into a smile as he took the ornament.

“Alright.”

 

* * *

 

Nope. Sam refused to believe it.

All this flirting Gabe did—it wasn’t real. No way. He’d just… overstepped this time. Because that’s what Gabriel did. Gabe didn’t know when enough was enough—for example, killing Dean once hadn’t been sufficient. No, he’d had to be killed a hundred and twenty times, just to make all bases had been covered.

So, yeah, no. Sam wasn’t buying it. Not even if the archangel’s honey-coloured eyes were ridiculously genuine and his usual smirk was gone and he looked almost kinda really sincere and—

Oh, crap, Gabriel was telling the truth, wasn’t he?

Sam raked his hand through his hair and turned away from Gabe, exhaling slowly. “Gabriel, if you’re lying to me just for… just for shits and giggles, I swear I’m gonna—”

“Not lying, kiddo.”

Sam looked at Gabriel. The archangel was leaning against the counter, arms crossed; his head was tilted to the side very slightly as he returned Sam’s stare.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Wow. Okay. I… Wow.”

Gabriel watched wordlessly as Sam went over to the counter to stand beside him, then, after another moment of silence, he asked, “Did it _really_ take you this long to figure it out? Actually, you didn’t even figure it out for yourself—I had to outright tell you! Jesus, kiddo.”

“Will you shut up?”

“And people say _you’re_ the smart one! What’s Dean got up there? Sawdust?”

“Oh, go to hell,” Sam huffed, shooting him a glare. “Everything’s a joke with you—how was I supposed to know you were being serious this time?”

Gabriel looked Sam up and down. “Hey, Sam? When was the last time you got laid?”

Sam blinked, caught slightly off-guard by the sudden change of topic. “Like, last year. Why?” he replied shortly.

“Because I think the lack of ass is making you stupid.” Gabe paused. “How’s about I help make you smart again?” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I—Jesus Christ, Gabriel, Dean and Cas are in the next room.”

“That’s what makes it hot—”

“Will you stop that already?” Sam snapped. “Just. Stop it. Okay?”

“Why?” Gabriel sounded genuinely inquisitive.

“Because—Because of Dean and Cas, Gabe—”

“What about ’em? If they can mack on each other, why can’t we?”

“—and there’ll be hunts to focus on—”

“What the hell’s that got to do with anything? You’re just grasping at straws now, kiddo.”

“—and it’s Christmas! We can’t freakin’ defile the holiday by… by…” Sam trailed off as a sly grin crept onto Gabriel’s lips.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” He straightened up and moved so he was standing in front of Sam. “See, kiddo, I think you’re forgetting that ‘defiling the holiday’, as you put it, is one of the major traditions of said holiday.” He glanced up, his pointed look drawing Sam’s gaze to a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. Gabe must’ve put it there.

Sam looked back down at Gabriel and thought the situation over for a moment. “Okay,” he said, quickly and quietly. “If we do this, you can’t be a dick about it for the rest of eternity. Afterwards, we’ll act like nothing’s happened, because I’ll never hear the end of it if someone finds out—and on that note, if you tell Dean or Cas _anything_ , I will murder you.”

“I’ll try not to be, they’re too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other to notice anyway, and I don’t know if you realise this but when you’re trying to be threatening you’re hot as—”

Mainly just to get Gabriel to shut up, Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him in close, and pressed a firm kiss to his lips.

 

* * *

 

Okay, if Gabriel had thought Sam was hot before, right now he was making the sun look lukewarm.

Sam crushed their lips together almost roughly, his hands running down Gabriel’s back and sides and tugging at the material of his jacket as he pulled the archangel closer—every movement was demanding.

“Holy crap, Winchester,” Gabe got out, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair, and Sam actually _picked him up off the ground_. Gabriel automatically wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, the thought that he should be complaining about being treated like some chick lazily prodding at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because, once again, _holy crap._ He’d never expected Sam to be sappy or anything, but this… _this_ was a whole new level.

“Do you ever—” Sam nipped Gabe’s lower lip lightly, “—shut up?” He pulled back to trail slow, hot kisses down Gabriel’s neck.

Gabe tipped his head back a little without thinking, baring more skin for Sam’s lips to move across. “Past evidence suggests the answer to that is n—a-ah…!” He broke off as Sam bit his neck, then soothed the spot with a few lazy kisses. Gabriel dug fingers into the Winchester’s shoulders, allowing himself to bury his face in Sam’s hair as he tried to steady his breathing. The chestnut locks were soft against his skin as he nuzzled his face into them.

“Apparently, past evidence is wrong.” Sam laughed quietly, the sound short but rich. Gabriel squirmed as Sam’s warm breath brushed his neck.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

Gabe could feel Sam’s smirk against his collarbone. “Did you mean to make that innuendo?”

“Of course.”

“Liar,” Sam murmured, lifting a hand to tilt Gabe’s face down to his own. Their lips had just touched when there was a shout:

“Hey, Sammy? Can you bring me and Cas some pie? We’re starvin’,” Dean called.

Sam sprang away from Gabriel so suddenly that the archangel almost landed on his butt. The smug, lustful look that had been in Sam’s eyes was now replaced by panic.

“Uh, sure,” Sam called back, the uncertain crack in his voice audible for all the world to hear.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows at him as he snapped his fingers and two plates of cherry pie appeared on the counter. “Relax, Winchester,” he said, grabbing a plate and slapping Sam’s ass before swaggering out the kitchen. Gabriel couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto his lips when Sam jumped.

 

* * *

 

Even when he heard the footsteps, Castiel didn’t look up from the popcorn through which he was attempting to thread a needle and string. He didn’t understand this tradition at all, but Dean said it was a part of Christmas, so partake in it he would.

“What were you two doing in there?” Dean asked, and there was the sound of clinking plates as they were set down on the table. “Making out?”

“Yes, actually,” came Gabriel’s arrogant voice, drawing Cas’ gaze up to the other men. Sam was staring at Gabe, his skin as white as a sheet. He looked as if he was about to pass out. “In fact, we were just about to ask you if you wanted to join us in a threesome. A foursome, if Cas can kick the forty-thousand-year-old virgin gig.”

Dean grunted and picked up the plates, handing one to Cas. The blue porcelain was cool in Castiel’s hands as he absently traced the floral pattern with his thumb while he watched the interactions going on around him with vague curiosity.

He studied Gabriel and Sam.

(Cas actually had a rather good sense of perception; his obstacle was planted firmly in the centre of the road that connected thoughts to speech. He sometimes wondered if the others thought his inability to express himself properly was just ignorance.)

Gabriel’s hair was mussed, his clothes crumpled, and Cas frowned as he noticed a small bruise on his neck, just below his jaw. For a second, he dismissed it as something the archangel had received in battle, but then he remembered what Dean had taught him about “hickeys”. This bruise looked very similar to what Dean had described.

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t look as dishevelled—aside from his hair. The mane of chestnut locks was messed up in a style that it definitely hadn’t been in before, a few stray strands falling in his eyes. But the main difference between the Sam he was used to and the man that was standing in the room right now, Cas thought, was his body language.

Sam was standing in an almost defensive position, with his arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other. His jaw was set, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the ground. His breathing looked forcibly calm.

“Careful, asshat. I can still kick you out, you know,” Dean said to Gabriel, snapping Cas out of his daze.

Gabriel blew him a kiss. “The offer’s always open.”

The gesture Dean made with his hands was one Cas had learnt to be less than polite.

And while Castiel ate his pie and looked at the beautiful decorations that had been hung all around the room, he couldn’t help but wonder if Dean’s accusations of Sam and Gabriel sharing a kiss had been truer than the Winchester had intended. 


End file.
